An experimental discussion about reading, writing, sex, death, and headcolds. Perhaps some freewriting, internet memes, and the occasional game, too.

8.24.2005

Occupational Hazard

Life doesn't seem quite real tonight. Time is standing still. The world is waiting. For what, I don't know.

This feeling of separateness, of not being part of the world, of anticipation, is an occupational hazard, I suppose.

I've spent the day reading. Stepping out of this reality and into worlds created by others. In those other worlds, I exist, but only as an observer. The result is this odd sense of disconnect from reality.

Thanks for the link, Coyote Beta. You've probably noticed that I linked to you also.

Mac, it may be worse. I think most people are simply not tuned to that frequency. I've had people in some pretty amazing places in the dead of night, and while I've rarely felt more alive, they've been far more interested in whether they've managed to get mud on their new shoes....

What gets me, Jason, is when they interfere with that sense of connectedness you get from being someplace in the middle of the night. They wanted to come with you, but once out there, they are worried about stalkers or is the car parked where someone won't hit it or any one of a hundred different things. They can't just kick back and enjoy the moment.

I hear you, Lori. Once I had a person freak at a cemetery wall. Rather than let him ruin the entire trip (two others were fine going in), I made him mill around the neighborhood until we got back. Of course, the other two failed to have that sense of connectedness inside. I just can't win, I'm afraid.